A storm raged over Noor General Hospital, lightning carving jagged veins of light across the sky. Inside, Zahra sat in the prayer room, her hands trembling as she flipped through Dr. Areeba's old diary.
The final entry chilled her:
October 5, 2005
"I now understand. To bring a soul back, mine must take its place. The price is life for life.
I tried to cheat the rules of the Creator.
I failed. And now… I wait for the living to return, so I may try again."
Zahra whispered, "Astaghfirullah." Her heart beat fast. This wasn't just a spirit—it was a soul in rebellion. Areeba had not just defied death. She had tried to play God.
"Zahra."
Dr. Arif's voice drifted into the room. She turned, relief washing over her.
"I found something," he said.
In the old records room, Arif had discovered a locked drawer in a rusted file cabinet. Inside it was an envelope with the seal of Dr. Areeba Faisal. Inside were three items:
A newspaper clipping of her death. A photograph of her with the little girl she tried to save. A small, worn piece of cloth—a child's blood-stained scarf.
"The child's soul is trapped," Arif said quietly. "That's why Areeba can't move on."
Zahra nodded. "And unless that soul is freed, she'll keep dragging others into her torment."
They had to find a way to release the child.
But how?
That night, Zahra stood at Mahnoor's bedside in the pediatric ward. The little girl was asleep, her breathing steady. Arif floated nearby, his presence comforting.
"She reminds me of her," he said softly.
"Of the girl?"
He nodded. "The one Areeba tried to bring back. Her name was Inaya. I remember now. I saw her once… when I first joined this hospital. She used to paint pictures for the doctors."
Zahra's eyes widened. "Wait. Come with me."
She ran to the basement archives, unlocking the old case files. After flipping through layers of dust-covered folders, she found it:
Patient: Inaya Ali
Age: 8
Date of death: 2005
Cause: Brain tumor
Doctor: Dr. Areeba Faisal
Inside the folder were drawings—flowers, angels, and one final image that made Zahra freeze.
It was of the hospital on fire.
And in the window, a child stood, holding out her hand.
"She knew," Arif whispered. "She knew she wouldn't survive."
Zahra touched the drawing. "Then maybe… she left a message."
Beneath the final page was a single line written in shaky handwriting:
"Let me go, Miss Doctor. Let me go."
Tears filled Zahra's eyes.
"She didn't want to return."
The next morning, Zahra visited the ICU, where Arif's body lay in a coma. His heart rate was slowing. His skin is pale. The doctors were losing hope.
Arif stood beside her, watching his own fading body.
"I don't have much time."
"You have to hold on," she whispered. "We're so close."
"Zahra…"
She looked at him.
"I need to tell you something."
She shook her head. "Save it. We'll talk when you're back."
But he just smiled.
"If I don't come back… know that meeting you changed everything."
That evening, Zahra went to Room 12A one last time.
She carried Inaya's scarf, the diary, and a prayer on her lips.
The hospital was quiet. The staff had gone home early. The power flickered again. It was just like the night Areeba had died.
She stepped inside.
The room was cold. Icy.
Areeba stood by the window.
Waiting.
"You came," the ghost said. Her voice was like wind through broken glass.
"I brought her," Zahra said. "The child."
She laid the scarf on the desk.
Areeba turned sharply.
"You lie."
"No," Zahra said calmly. "Her soul has waited long enough."
"Then give her to me!" Areeba hissed. "I can fix it. I must fix it!"
"She doesn't want to come back."
Areeba screamed, a cry so piercing the windows cracked.
"You don't understand! I was her only hope!"
"No," Zahra said, standing firm. "You were her prison."
She began to recite Surah Al-Falaq and Surah An-Naas. Her voice steady, heart strong.
The walls shook.
Areeba's figure flickered.
"No!" she shrieked. "You don't know what I gave! What I sacrificed!"
Zahra opened the diary and threw it into the center of the room, along with the scarf.
Then she poured Zamzam water over both and whispered, "Inaya, you are free now. Go to the light. Allah is waiting."
The temperature dropped. The lights blew out.
And then… a glow.
A soft, golden glow.
A small hand reached out from the shadows—a child's hand.
And Areeba wept.
"Inaya…" she whispered.
The little girl looked at her. "Let me go, Miss Doctor."
And with that… she vanished.
So did Areeba.
Peace.
Silence.
A soul returned. A curse lifted.
Back in the ICU, the heart monitor on Arif's body beeped rapidly.
Then stabilized.
The nurses rushed in.
"He's waking up!"
Three days later…
Zahra stood at the edge of the hospital garden, watching the sunrise. She heard footsteps.
She turned.
It was him.
Dr. Arif. Alive. Breathing. Human.
Their eyes met.
He smiled. "I kept my promise."
Tears welled in Zahra's eyes. "You came back."
They stood in silence for a long moment.
Then he said softly, "I felt it. The moment you set her free. It was like… the world exhaled."
"She was waiting for someone to listen," Zahra replied.
"And you did."
He stepped closer. "Thank you."
She smiled. "You saved the hospital."
"No," he said, gently taking her hand. "We did."
That night, as they walked through the now peaceful halls of Noor General Hospital, a quiet breeze flowed past them.
The shadows had lifted.
But some stories… don't end.
They simply wait.